Irene and the Open

On Tuesday, those competing in the U.S. Open qualifying tournament, in Flushing, felt tremors from the 5.8 magnitude quake that struck the East Coast. They paused for a moment—noticing the ball take a funky bounce, perhaps—then kept playing. Minor earthquakes aren’t much of a problem in tennis.

Hurricanes are another matter. Windswept balls don’t stay in the court, and wet ones simply won’t bounce. So, of course, Hurricane Irene has timed its arrival to coincide with the beginning of this year’s Open. Other sports have been affected, too: the Mets cancelled two games this weekend, the Giants and Jets have moved tomorrow’s preseason game to the hopefully dry afternoon, and the Barclays Classic, a golf tournament in New Jersey, has been shortened from seventy-two to fifty-four holes.

But rain terrorizes tennis tournaments more than most sporting events. Already, the U.S.T.A. has cancelled Arthur Ashe Kids Day, its annual Saturday kick-off featuring teen musical acts of the moment (Jonas, Bieber) and, when I stopped in last year, a stadium-wide game of Red Light, Green Light. More significant would be the delay of play come Monday. There’s a limited time frame to complete the draw—matches can’t be made up months later, as in baseball—so tournament directors scramble to get every match played. At one tournament I attended earlier this year, two rain delays stopped play, but the players were sprinted back on at the first sign of a dry court. The last match ended well after midnight.

This year, Wimbledon responded to its frequent inclement weather by installing a roof over its famed Centre Court. If stodgy old Wimbledon can build a roof, American tennis fans ask, why can’t we? For one, it’s expensive, somewhere in the low nine figures. But the tournament has considered the possibility: a BBC story from as far back as 2008 said that the roof was imminent, quoting the U.S.T.A.’s chief executive: “At this point, it’s a question of when as opposed to if.” More recent statements have hinted more at if than when, so, for now, they will simply have to scramble. In each of the past three years, the men’s final, ideally played on a sunny Sunday afternoon, has been forced, by rain, to finish on the following Monday. Nobody—players, fans, Open employees, TV executives—likes that.